


Daenerys, First of her Name

by DarthCaedus



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Beastiality (mentioned), Bondage, Cunnilingus, Edging, F/F, F/M, Femdom, Lezdom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2020-01-06 19:28:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18394868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarthCaedus/pseuds/DarthCaedus
Summary: In honor of the last season airing in a week, I thought I'd write out one ultra smutty headcanon set after the war with the Night's King. Before the showrunners destroy all our souls with what actually happens.May only be two chapters, may be more depending on popular demand.





	Daenerys, First of her Name

**Author's Note:**

> In this, Tyrion is head of his house, and Missandei has stepped into the role of Hand. Following that example, The other heads of house appointed their own Hands, because frankly each leader should have an advisor like that.

Daenerys of the House Targaryen, the First of Her Name, The Unburnt, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Queen of Meereen, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Protector of the Realm, Lady Regent of the Seven Kingdoms, Breaker of Chains and Mother of Dragons, Vanquisher of the Others, and the Prince that was Promised, had a smirk across her face as she glided down the halls of the Red Keep. Missandei, Hand of the Queen and her closest advisor, walked a barely respectful step behind her. They had been through much, and that shared experience earned her privileges no one else in the kingdom could enjoy.

They moved down corridors and through junctions, passing the many rooms and side halls that led to the King’s chambers. She had taken those of course, after ascending her throne. Her consort could use the Queen’s rooms. That always brought a giggle from some of the ladies of the court. The thought of the dark, brooding, powerful Lord from the North, eagerly agreeing to sleep in chambers that should rightfully belong to Daenerys. But no one had argued. Very few ever did anymore.

They turned a crossing corridor and entered the hall with her chambers. The Unsullied guarding the door stood at attention as always, unmoving, unblinking. Although Grey Worm did allow a warm smile for his beloved Missandei. Turning her gaze Daenerys caught that small turn of the lips on her Hand’s face. That little show of approval that had stolen Grey Worm’s heart and never failed to make Daenerys a little weak in the knees. Knees that right now were slick with her juices. She had been waiting all day for this special night, and the fantasies she had held while giving court had seen fit to leave her drenched under her gown.

Opposite the Unsullied stood a solitary Dothraki and Kingsguard. The man in a white cloak stood at his ease with one boot up against the wall behind him. Until she stepped into view. Then it was a rigid back and quick salute. He was young, barely old enough to need a shave one day in a week. But all her guards were good, and the inexperienced were often paired with her other fighters to encourage them to train better.

The guard from among the Dothraki was something of an oddity. During the fighting against the white walkers, even the women in that group had taken up weapons to defend the living. After the war had ended the newly chosen Khal’s had tried to put a stop to that. But water is much harder to put back into the bowl after it spills onto the floor. And Daenerys had decreed, from her position as the highest of them, that any Dothraki woman who wished to fight be given the same choices as the men. Very few had refused. So tonight her guard was a woman, just into her middle years with a few streaks of grey at her temples. Her hair hung to her shoulders, as all the women who chose to fight had to cut it short, and let it begin to grow again as a sign of their competence.

This woman lounged on the step to Jon’s room, a grin Daenerys could only call insolent on her face. “Yeri jif gwe she, Khaleesi. The mem anna has is lavakh.” She laughed at that, and a faint groan could be heard from the other side of the Daenerys’ door.

“Mae tikh laqikh jin ajjalani, Annithi.” The Queen replied, which made the guard throw her head back in laughter, and produced a small chuckle from Missandei. The Westerosi boy blushed. He had been listening to the groans and could piece together a few words in Dothraki by now. The Unsullied kept their eyes forward, faces impassive as always. As the two women turned towards the door and away from the still chuckling Dothraki woman, Missandei slipped a hand along Grey Worm’s backside. He stiffened even more and she whispered something in his ear. Daenerys smiled broadly at that. Missandei had her stoic soldier eating from her palm. And from other places.

They slipped into the room and closed the door solidly behind them. The tableau that greeted them was depraved as can be. John was bound, bent over, his wrists to his ankles, ankles spread by a metal bar. He was next to the bed, looking across the mattress towards the door. He was nude. There was a gag in his mouth. And kneeling next to him was Arya Stark. The girl he still called sister. She was dressed simply in linen breeches. Linen breeches only. Her shirt lay discarded on the floor by one of the room’s chairs. Her hand was wrapped around his cock. It moved ever so slowly up and down. Daenerys could see that there was a thick sheen of wetness coating her fingers and his dick. But no white.

“My Queen.” She rose and performed a perfectly formal bow. As she rose she gave her hand a lick and giggled at the moan Jon emitted. “As you ordered, he has not orgasmed yet. Though he did get very close several times.” Arya strode around the bed to stand before the white haired queen.

Daenerys tilted her head respectfully, as was fitting from the monarch to the Hand of the North upon seeing one another. Then she laughed lightly. Formalities over with she embraced her topless friend. The relations of the Stark’s to the crown were confusing to say the least. To simplify things, upon taking Jon as her own, Daenerys had decided to treat them as siblings. And to her surprise they shared that sentiment. Well, except for Bran. But he didn’t seem to feel much at all. Daenerys leaned forward to capture her sister in kiss. She could taste Jon on her lips and a faint hint of a more feminine musk.

“Arya, did you have one of my maids come in here?”

The girl shrugged and grinned with all the wolfish glee her House sigil suggested. “Who was I to stop the girl from coming to change the bedding? Which I may have sent for. And it’s not entirely my fault it wasn’t soiled yet. Couldn’t send the girl off with clean linens to wash. Better to get them nice and dirty first.” She leaned forward to whisper loudly enough to be heard by everyone in the room. “They were so filthy by the time I finished. I'm surprised she remembered to get dressed.”

They moved more fully into the room at that. Missandei took up her position at the foot of the bed, standing as gracefully as always. Daenerys went and stepped behind her husband. He beautiful, brave, strong husband. Her nephew. Oh how his face burned when she reminded him of that fact. Her hand ran slowly from his neck to his bum. She paused to touch the various scars he bore. When she reached his behind to probe at his hole. It gave easily, even with her unlubed finger. Arya had been playing with that too it seems. “How many times did you keep my nephew on the edge?”

Arya had moved to stand next to Missandei and slipped a hand in the waistband of her skirt. Not the hand covered in Jon’s wetness Daenerys noted. The dark skinned woman emitted a light moan as the short girl began to manipulate her clit. “Eight times Dany.” Only she, of everyone in Daenerys’ life now, was allowed to call her that. When Arya heard the people avoided that nickname because of the abuses brought on her by Viserys, the northern girl had corned Daenerys in a room, and soundly fucked her. That was the first night she had been fisted. All the while she refused to use any other name but Dany. To replace her bad memories with good, she had said. “Eight times by brother tried to spill his seed on your floor. Eight times I had to let him go and watch him twitch and ooze, feel his arsehole twitch and his walnut tighten.” She did so love to manipulate that sensitive bump in Jon’s backside.

“What is his edging record, Missandei?”

“Ten, your Grace. Had we waited a bit longer, I do not doubt the Lady Stark here would have broken that.” Missandei let out a whine at the end, the most expressive she had been all night.

“What have I told you about calling me that, Missie?” Arya growled dangerously, her hand giving small twitches. Daenerys knew from experience that she was pinching and twisting that clit in a way that just bordered on too much.

“You have forbidden it,” The Hand of the Queen glanced into Arya’s eyes and then continued. “You have forbidden it, my _Lady_.” Then she let out a small cry. Missandei maintained a firm control over Grey Worm and the others they invited into her bed. Rumor had it that list had begun with Theon Greyjoy, but had grown quite a bit since then. With Daenerys she submitted easily when her queen’s mood turned fiery and demanded pain to satisfy. She did not enjoy the whipping and other pains she suffered, which helped to sate the dragon queen’s more sadistic desires. Arya was the only person she truly enjoyed giving herself to. She had been known to goad the girl, always in more private settings, to the point of being bent over and fisted in both her holes.

That wasn’t the order of the night however. Arya pulled her hand from the former slaves clothing, and then stroked her face with the wet hand. Across her lips, her nose, up her cheek into a light pat. “Have your fun tonight girls. I have a Northern Regent in need a good fucking.”

“How many more days do you have in the south Arya?” Daenerys asked. She had pushed two dry fingers into Jon’s ass. Uncomfortable for him, but not risking a tear with how much Arya had worked. And she knew perfectly well that the Regent and the Hand only had two more nights in the Red Keep.

“Only one Dany. We leave the day after tomorrow.” She was dressed again, her shirt bearing a pin in the form of a wolf holding a severed hand in its jaws. “Come by my chambers tomorrow night for a show. And remember, no touching.” She smirked again. “Bring Missie to take care of you urges if you want.” And she opened the door.

“Remember Arya,” Daenerys called. “Bring him up right away.” That made Jon’s head shoot up in surprise. His mind must be reeling with questions. As the door closed Daenerys moved to undress. Missandei was there on the instant to begin unlacing and helping the monarch strip. Summer was warm in the south and so there were very few layers. In moments she was nude. As regal nude as in the most formal of gowns. She lay back on the edge of the bed, drawing him closer with a light tug under his chin. He shuffled over with some difficulty until his head was quite close to hers. At the rustle of soft leather his eyes shot over and widened as Missandei’s perfect breasts came into view. Even Daenerys watched silently, though this was a sight she had witnessed countless times. When the Hand was nude and moved with a soft bounce to the bed. Only like this, naked and in private with those she cared about, did she let that perfect mask of control slip and some eagerness enter her motions. With gusto she settled between Daenerys’ legs and began working away.

“Jon,” Daenerys moaned, lightly moving his eyes back to her violet ones. “Tonight is going to be something special. Something I have wanted for a long time.” That could mean a great many things. She had many depraved fantasies, most of which she had shared with him during their lovemaking. That, combined with her last instruction to his sister had him worried. She could see all of that playing out in his eyes. “Don’t worry nephew, it won’t be painful.” He relaxed. “For you.” He stiffened again, glancing nervously at Missandei. He still wasn’t comfortable with their relationship, and was protective of the woman. Daenerys laughed softly. “Nor for her. Not tonight anyway. No, this is for me.” That left him very confused. And, she could feel her best friend tense between her legs. She knew the plan for tonight and now she worried it would be her turn sometime.

Daenerys patted her on the head, but did not issue words of comfort. Let the girl worry. Moaning at the tongue working an insistent pattern on her clit she reached over with her left hand and grasped her nephews cock. It was still quite hard, very slick, and throbbed strongly. That was partially due to the tight ring Arya had clipped at its base. She stroked slowly, evenly, not with enough to pressure to set him off but enough to drive him crazy with need. His hips thrust and his throat growled.

They kept at it for some time, until the queen’s back arched and she sighed a pleasant orgasm. Her first of the night. Certainly not her last. She pulled her hand away from Jon’s cock, being sure to wipe along the head to gather as much wetness as possible. Her right tangled in Missandei’s perfect curly hair, and pulled roughly. Letting the woman see, she carefully moved the left between her thighs, and let the wetness from Jon come away to mingle with her own. “Clean it.” She said simply, and released her friend’s hair. Missandei shuddered at the command, partly from the filth of it, mostly from the excitement of submitting to her Khaleesi.

That was the sight that greeted Arya as she returned. She didn’t bother to knock. Daenerys knew, in her heart of hearts, in the bedroom Arya was the lead wolf of this pack. And even a dragon could follow a strong enough wolf. Which led her to the subject of Arya’s return. Behind her trotted Ghost. He was nearly the size a decent horse now, and was plenty big enough for most of them to mount. He sniffed the air, catching the pheromones, the fluids, the sweat, and the scent of excitement. Then he caught sight of Jon struggling and trying to talk around the leather ball in his mouth. Ghost started to growl, but cut off as Arya’s hand stroked back his bristling fur.

“It’s alright boy, look around. It’s just us. All friends.” Gradually he calmed down and sat letting Arya scratch his head. That settled she nodded and turned to leave. “I better be getting back to my chambers. I have a Northern regent in need of a good shagging.” She giggled as she grasped the door handle. “Sansa’s ass won’t gape itself.”

Daenerys rose, gently pushing Missandei away and eyed Ghost. Their gazes met and held. For a long minute they appraised each other. He had accepted her before. Jon submitted to her and he submitted to Jon. Very simple for a wolf. But this felt different for him. He was a very intelligent creature, on par with her Drogon. They held each other, and then he let a small whimper, and lay down. He accepted her. He would obey. As all creatures should obey her.

“Well,” She said, clapping her hands. “Should we get started then?”

**Author's Note:**

> Well. I'm sure anyone reading this knows where this is going. Thats why I split this into two parts. Anyone who likes the idea of Ghost getting the chance to fuck the mother of dragons, stay tuned. Anyone who doesn't, enjoy what I've put here so far.


End file.
